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jewels-writes · 5 months

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Call of Duty - Fatal Injury Scenarios

Warnings: There is character death in all of these. You, the reader, are fatally injured. In Keegan's, there are themes of drug overdose, I know some people can be considerably sensitive to that. Please consider this your warning. Do not read further if you feel you may be triggered by these topics. Included Characters: Ghost, Price, Keegan, König Word Count: 1.9k Notes: This is very lightly proofread, apologies for inconsistencies or typos/grammatical errors. As always, requests are open. — — — —

Ghost (gunshot):

You and Ghost were paired up for a mission, per usual. You had to clear a building, you took the upstairs, Ghost took the ground floor. You heard the occasional pop of gunfire from downstairs, praying it was Ghost’s gun that was making the sounds.

Focusing on your own work, you cleared the upstairs rooms, being as thorough as possible. As you went through the rooms, you gunned down the enemy, not hesitating once. You were a soldier, you knew hesitating could mean life or death.

“Clear.” you relayed into your communications headset. Before you could turn your radio off, a door swung open at you, the enemy raising their gun and putting three rounds through your chest. Your vest normally would have stopped the bullets, but not this close. You made a gurgling noise before crumpling to the ground, your gun clattering out of your hand beside you.

“Report in, what’s going on up there?” Ghost demanded, making his way to the stairs, gun trained at the top of them. “Soldier, come in.” He ordered, but got nothing in response. He knew something was wrong. You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. Not when your lungs were turned to swiss cheese.

He saw the figure of a body on the ground and after seeing the uniform, he knew it was you. You looked dead.

“Fuckin’ hell..” He clenched his jaw and looking around, his gun raised, waiting for the enemy. He knew they were lurking around here somewhere. He heard a floorboard creek off to the right and burst the door down, shooting the enemy with deadly precision. He didn’t stop even after they’d fallen to the ground. He was furious, angry that the enemy had been able to touch you.

With the threat neutralized, Ghost moved to your side, kneeling beside you. His hands hovered over you, unsure how to fix your injury. His face contorted beneath his mask, realizing the bullets went through your vest and to your vitals. His eyes looked up to yours, looking for a sign of life.

Your labored breathing gave him hope. Hope that you were hanging on.

“Can you hear me..?” His voice was low and careful, his eyes searching your confused expression. “You did good, soldier. You did good.” He could see you were losing your fight and his gloved hand came down to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing your skin.

He was beside you as you took your last painful breath, his hand on your cheek. His heart seemed to stop with yours. He grieved in silence, never being a man of many words when it came to losing someone. Gently, he removed your dogtag, placing it next to his own.

“Until we meet again, soldier.” — — — —

Price (bombed):

After the mission, everyone was exhausted as they all squished into the transport truck. Price sat next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. It was a tough fight, and he knew you needed your rest. He guided your head to his shoulder, a normal routine between the two of you.

Just as your eyes began to close, there was an explosion in the distance.. It sounded like bombing. Then there was another one. And another. Getting louder. Getting closer.

“Price? What’s going on?” You asked, lifting your heard from his shoulder and looking around.

The next instant everything went black. The truck was targeted by an aircraft, the spraying of it’s missiles were the last thing you heard before you passed out.

When you came to, it was to Price dragging you out of the wreck. The next thing you registered was the agonizing pain you were in. Everything hurt, everything burned. It was like you’d been used as a punching bag before being thrown into an oven.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Price’s voice was in your ear as he pulled you away from the burning wreck, his fingers looped into your vest’s handles on the back. “Look at me, you’re okay.” He muttered with a grunt, pulling you away farther.

You tried to talk, tried to ask him what happened. But you couldn’t, didn’t quite know why. Reaching a hand up, you felt around your neck, feeling an uncomfortable pressure there. Your hand froze when you felt hot liquid.

“John-” You mouthed, a dreadful realization dawning on you. Hearing your struggle, his eyes met yours before flicking down to where your hand was probing at your neck. You saw his anguish in his expression, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.

“Oh, shit.” Was all he could manage. “Look at me, you’re gonna be fine. It looks worse than it is.” He lied through his teeth, kneeling beside you, one of his hands running through your hair, the other hovering over your neck. He knew you wouldn’t make it. The gash had gone through an artery. He could see the inside of your neck.

“Shh.. shh.. I’m here. Look at me.” He soothed you, placing both hands on either side of your face, looking you in your eyes. “You did good. You’re the best of the best.” He tried his best to not get choked up. He could see you were fading, the blood spilling from your neck onto the ground, staining the grass a brutal red.

He watched as the last remnants of life flickered out of your eyes, left open and unseeing. His face contorted as he registered that he watched your final breath. He reached a hand up to cover his mouth in despair.

“I’m sorry, my sunshine.” Price felt the tears running down his face as he retracted his other hand. Reaching for your dogtag, he clutched it in his fist, holding it to his chest. “I won’t forget you.” — — — —

Keegan (overdose):

“Sweetheart? I’m home!” Keegan called as he kicked off his shoes in the entryway to your shared home. Normally he’d hear you bounding down the stairs, eager to hug him after he’d been away after a long mission, tackling him near to the ground. It sent a pang of concern through his body when he heard nothing but the air conditioning unit in response. “Honey? Where are you?” He called out again, his body tense with gnawing dread. Something felt wrong.

Everything in the immediate area looked fine, but he couldn’t rule out a potential break in. Not when you were his lover. Not when you meant so much to him. His hand reached for his concealed pistol, unclipping the button that covered it, resting his hand on the body of it, ready to use it if necessary.

Remaining quiet, he searched the house, starting with the main areas. Living room, dining room, kitchen. All clear. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, it dawned on him that you could just be asleep. He jogged up the stairs, ignoring the soreness from deployment.

The light was off in your shared room. It made him feel slightly relieved, realizing you were probably just asleep and that he’d been worked up over nothing.

Quietly turning the knob, he opened the door and let out a slow breath. There you were, sound asleep on his side of the bed, holding one of his hoodies he’d left you.

“Christ. You’re asleep. Had me worried as hell.” He grumbled, taking his hand off his pistol and walking around to the side of the bed and switching the lamp on, hoping to slowly wake you up. As he retracted his hand from the bedside table, he froze, his eyes catching a pill bottle he hadn’t seen before he left for his mission. Was it new? Picking it up, he inspected the label. “Sleeping pills..? How many..” His voice trailed off as he looked back over to you, his eyes on your back, looking for breathing. For any movement.

“Sweetheart? Oh shit.” His voice gained volume as he shook your shoulder. Nothing. “Babe, wake up right fucking now.” His voice grew more concerned. Reaching for your wrist, he begged silently for a pulse, his stomach dropping when he didn’t feel one.

“No.. no please.” Keegan’s voice hitched as he pressed harder into your cold skin. It was no use. Your life had been taken hours before he arrived home. It was an accident, you were just trying to get some sleep, turning to pills to help your insomnia. You’d taken too many.

“Why..? Oh my god.. Sweetheart, please don’t do this to me. You were my everything..” — — — —

König (poison):

The mission was going smoothly, no issues yet. You and König worked together like a well-oiled machine, picking up the slack where the other lacked perfectly. As you and him reached the office, König motioned for you to go in, implying he’d stand guard as you grabbed the intel needed.

Nodding, you stepped inside, doing a quick sweep over the small office. There was no one inside, just a normal office space. Moving the the computer, you powered it on, hooking up your own laptop to break into the locks. As you worked, you felt on edge, like somethin was wrong. This was too easy. As you saw the file on the desktop, hidden under a false name, you faltered.

Cursing at yourself, you clicked on it anyway. The instant that you did, the room went dark, replaced by a flashing red that came with alarms sounding. König, who’d been standing just outside the door, immediately tried to help, his hand shaking the handle of the now locked door.

“Shit-! It’s a trap!” He called from the other side. “Are you okay? What’s going on in there?” He demanded, his voice high with concern. Looking around, you realized something. The room was filling with some kind of gas.

Hurriedly, you stuffed your laptop back into your pack before rushing over to the door, putting your whole body weight against it. Your hand came up to cover your mouth as the gas reached your face. You realized it was some kind of toxin. And of course you didn’t have a gas mask.

“Schatz! Get out of there!” König shouted from the other side, his fists connecting with the door. “Back up! I’m kicking the door in.” He ordered, hoping you’d get out of the way in time.

Stumbling back, you leaned heavily on the desk, the toxin affecting you. Your knees were weak, you felt your mind detach from your body. You couldn’t control it when your body slumped to the ground, your eyes rolling back.

As König delivered a devastating blow to the door, it flew off of it’s hinges, landing on the other side of the room. “Schatz! Nein.. nein.. Look at me.” He kneeled beside you, tapping your cheek. Cursing to himself, he put his arms under you, hoisting you up over his shoulder as he began to run out of the toxic office space. When you two were out of the building, he propped you up against the wall, his stomach flipping when your body was completely limp.

“Hey, hey, wake up.” He begged, shaking your shoulders as he squatted beside you. “Gott verdammt, look at me!” With a sickening realization, he saw you weren’t breathing. “Nein..” He muttered as it felt like his heart shattered in two.

“Schatz.. Come on.. Open your eyes.” He begged, cupping your face in his hands. It was useless, whatever you’d breathed in was toxic enough to kill you.

“I’m so sorry.. I failed you..”

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year

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More of You, Pt. 1

Direct continuation from the fic Wildflower! I'd recommend reading it first before this one (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Part 2

One month since Ghost got deployed, one month since their 'date' got postponed, until Laswell called Jade to tell her that he'd gone missing in action.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC)

Word Count : ~ 7.8k words (I overdid it but idc lmao)

Warning : some angst with flufff don't worry, some whump, light gore, hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Prompt : There's only one bed oop

Title and story inspired by the song with the same title by JP Saxe!

*****

“Ghost, give me a sitrep now!”

“Watcher-1, things are not lookin’ good-- They found me.”

“We cannot get you an exfil in that area. You need to lose them first. Get out of there right now!”

“My ammo’s runnin’ out… I can’t lose them—”

“Ghost, do you copy?!

“Ghost!”

---

It's been two months since Simon told her that he's going out of the country to go on a mission. It's honestly crazy how much she missed him already, considering the fact that they were not even a couple yet. Jade couldn't even fathom how much his presence, or at least his mere existence in the same country, meant to her. Two months felt so long. Too long.

No one to call her names, no one to ask her to go explore London culinaries, no one to go thrifting with (for Ghost's lack of variety of wardrobe), no one to have a drink while stargazing.

And no one to hug.

Well, not that she ever hugged him for more than 2 seconds anyway. Ghost was certainly not a hugger. The only times they hug were after each… 'date', they'd come in contact for a short hug, before Ghost took off.

He must've hated hugs.

Jade sighed, resting her chin on her palm at the Le Jardin floristry counter.

It was a slow day. There were a few pre-orders, but there weren't even 15 clients that came in. One hour until the shop closes, and Jade was the only person at the shop. Her employees had left, while her parents were on a trip to Asia. Honestly, it miffed her, because now her mind was full of Ghost and Ghost only.

Where is he?, she wondered.

The ringtone of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Jade reached for her phone on the counter, and Laswell's name was written on the screen. She raised her eyebrow at the sight, thinking of what else the CIA agent had in store for her after Jade clearly told her that she was retired.

Rolling her eyes, Jade tapped the green button and put the phone on her ear, "Kate, you can't just call me whenever you run out of people to send out–"

"Ghost is MIA."

Not even a second later, her legs brought her to the front door before she flipped the tag from 'Open' to 'Closed'. "For how long?"

"Yesterday." Laswell's calm voice continued on the phone, "Ghost going dark is not an uncommon occurrence. He's used to it, and all this time he always comes back, but the situation was awry."

"What happened before he went MIA?" Jade switched the light off, climbed the stairs to reach her room and quickly opened her drawer to change into 'proper' clothes.

"We had an intel about a hidden drug stash in South America. There was a suspicion that it might be related to the Las Almas drug cartel. After months of tracking, Ghost then found a hidden facility. He went to investigate, but it appeared that his position was compromised, and the last thing we know, he was being chased by the Narcos before the radio cut off." The CIA agent explained, her tone was stable, yet there was a tinge of guilt in them. "I fear he might be in a dangerous situation, or worse."

Zipping up her turtleneck, Jade then walked to her father's study, obtaining the key to open the discreet stash of weapons behind the shelves.

"Price and Gaz are with Farah in Urzikstan, while Soap is halfway around the globe on another mission."

She took her plate carrier, her karambit knives and their holsters, plus her firearms along with the ammo.

“I apologize to you, Jade. I truly do. But you're our best tracker, and I know what he means to you, so I notified you first.”

Putting all the necessary pieces of equipment into a duffle bag, Jade then lifted the bag downstairs, moving fast to the backdoor and made her way to her sedan, sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Your wheels are up in 3 hours and I'll brief you more on the way. Are you up for this?”

“Brief me now.”

-----

The facility was deep in the middle of a rainforest. Made of cement, hidden by the tall trees of South America, it was a well-hidden building, obviously far out of the public eye.

Hiding behind the tall bushes and her steps covered by the pouring rain, it was relatively easy for her to take a tour around the building to scout the area. Jade could at least count 12 armed guards outside, guarding the many sides of the building. They rotate the place constantly every hour, occasionally talking into their radio for reports.

Twelve was a ton of people for the building’s size, almost too much. They were in the middle of a rainforest and far from any city. The only reason they need this much guard out would be a whole pack of hungry jaguars.

However, judging by the number of Narcos' dead bodies that Jade had encountered in the mud along the way, the reason for the many guards was definitely not big cats.

Ghost.

He must’ve stealthily killed his way in, and somehow he got noticed by a guard, and they started to hunt him down with guns blazing.

Jade swallowed. The only thing she was relieved about was the fact that none of those lifeless bodies was Ghost’s. It had been 4 days since Laswell lost contact with him. Ghost being captured had the highest possibility at this point, as the guards might not be placed to guard against who’s outside.

But to contain who’s inside.

"Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4, twelve armed guards on the exterior. I'm thinking of infiltrating them from the south side of the building." Jade spoke with a low voice to her PTT, preparing herself to go in, picturing every single step of her feet towards the building, every motion of her limbs to reach the point of entrance.

"Copy that, Sierra-4, you may proceed. Keep updating me on the situation."

Just after Laswell’s confirmation, sounds of gunshots rang from inside the building. That shocked and confused Jade as she lowered her scope which she had used to scout the area. All the guards turned around to face the building as more shots were fired from the inside. She could hear their loud chatters and shoutings through their radios, panic was written all over their faces as most of them ran inside to check the situation.

Jade couldn’t quite hear what the guards were talking about as their voices were muffled by the rain, but one thing she could clearly hear in Spanish was,

‘The prisoner escaped!’

Ghost was fighting his way out.

"Watcher-1, I hear gunshots from the inside. I suspect it's Ghost." Jade spoke with urgency in her voice.

"Copy that, Sierra-4. It's your move. You need to go in and help him." Laswell replied.

"Way ahead of ya."

"Good luck."

She scoffed, half-afraid and half-amused, taking aim with her rifle again as the guards were lowered to five. It was equipped with a suppressor, and taking out the dumbfounded guards outside was an easy fit. Their heads exploded upon impact with her bullets before collapsing to the ground, leaving the exterior unguarded. It was finally time for her to get inside.

To finally see him.

'See you tomorrow, Lottie.'

Ghost had said before he softly kissed her on her cheek, promising to ice skate and eat Korean barbecue with her on the 15th of February, only for her to be left disappointed when she received a text from him the next morning that he’ll be going on a mission. This mission.

Jade gritted her teeth at the memory, "I'm going in."

Rushing forward to the entrance of the building, She used her feet to silently press herself to the cement walls, the sound of gunshots was still going, albeit muffled. It’s like the sounds were coming from below.

Basement.

Loading her HK416, Jade infiltrated the area. She perceived at least four armed people in the main room, all looking towards one particular hallway while muttering nervously in Spanish, which she immediately suspected was the way to where Ghost was. Throwing a stun grenade inside, five bodies quickly fell to the ground from her shots.

Suddenly, another group of armed narcos came out of another room from the northern side, opening fire towards Jade while she was reloading. A bullet went past her shoulder, the sound of it ripping the air around it left a ringing sound on her ear. She could do nothing but quickly hide herself from the incoming rain of bullets behind a wall. The narcos emptied their mags like their fingers were glued to the trigger. It seemed like they were not properly trained.

When they were reloading, Jade took another flashbang and threw the can to the middle of the group. Quickly canting her aim, her rifle couldn't pick a better time to be jammed, prompting her to curse and switch to the pistol on her hips on the right and picked up her karambit blade with her left.

While the guards were stunned, it became muscle memory from there. Taking out three front-most people with the gun, using another as a shield from the incoming aimless fire, slitting the throat, and then another Narco in the face with the butt of the gun before forcing her blade up to the under jaw.

Having cleared the main room, Jade huffed, quickly fixing the jammed rifle, and proceeded by silently going even further into the building.

There was a long hallway with a number of doors along them. Jade smacked one door open, only to see white-coloured blocks of drugs on a table, and judging from the colour, cocaine must be the identity of the drug. She checked each and every one of the doors and found the same things. This building was a drug warehouse; a place where the drugs were stored before their export or distribution for sale. At first, she couldn’t discern for sure if this facility was indeed owned by the Las Almas drug cartel, but when she looked upon the notable stamp of El Sin Nombre’s skull, her doubt vanished.

Jade then moved further into the hallway and reached an intersection, where another set of gunshots and screams found her ears. Her legs brought her closer to the noise, finding a stairway downwards to the basement area. She quickly descended the stairs, finding herself surrounded by a dirty, poorly dug tunnel. Nevertheless, the ex-MI6 focused on her objective and ran to the source of the sound, when she finally reached the source of all the ruckus.

She turned from a corner with her aim up on an intersection, finding Ghost with his mask on, fighting four men at once, below them were the bodies of Narcos that he had killed prior. With a knife in one hand and his own pistol in the other, he stabbed a Narco in the neck and used his body as a shield from the incoming bullets. He then threw the knife straight at his assaulter’s face as Jade saw the other two taking aim at him. Upon reflex, Jade shot down the remaining Narcos, leaving Ghost the one standing alone in the tunnel seemingly dumbfounded at what just happened right in front of him.

With relief washing over her, Jade rushed towards Ghost, finding him still standing, still fighting, still alive. “Ghost!”

Only to be welcomed by the barrel of his gun aiming straight at her.

Before Ghost could pull his trigger, Jade’s reflex kicked in and defeated her own sadness and sorrow of not seeing him for more than two months, and leapt to his side, grabbing the barrel of the firearm away from her. She then used her speed and abundance of energy to kick his ankle strong enough to push Ghost off his balance. He fell down to the ground with a loud thud on his back. Jade kicked the pistol out of his hand, before putting her whole weight to press on his entire figure.

Still, Ghost was known for his superior combat ability and survival instinct. His hand found another knife on his hip holster, ready to stab the person who was holding him down.

“Simon!”

The sound of his first name stopped his knife on its track, stopping right beside her neck – a few mere inches before blood could’ve been spilt. And just after he heard his name, he felt a soft touch on his uninjured cheek.

Jade had opened his mask, revealing his face in the open. With how skilled and lethal Ghost was as an operator, she never thought she’d ever see Ghost in this state. His left cheek and eye were swollen, and there were traces of blood running down his temple. Even though black in colour, his clothes had darker spots where only blood could stain them. He had his plate carrier and his knife holsters on, but they too were stained with blood.

And his eyes, it was filled with rampage, pure anger and wild want for blood. Yet it was unfocused, like a blind beast ready to get rid of anyone standing in his way.

Imprisonment. Torture.

“It’s me. It’s me. I’m here for you. You’re okay.” He blinked a number of times, and the red fog that had been clouding his vision disappeared, finding the face of the woman he loved right above him.

“You’re okay now. I’m here. Please, it’s over, Simon.” Her shaky voice continued, desperation filling her tone. Her green eyes were already brimming with tears threatening to fall down. “It’s over.” She breathed, hoping that somehow, her voice could bring him back.

“...Midget?”

Hearing her nickname in his deep, hoarse voice was all the sign she needed. Ghost lowered his knife, and before he knew it, Jade dropped down to hug Ghost tightly, burying her face in his shoulders. She sobbed into the side of her neck, grasping his clothes with her fingers in relief. Finally, finally, he’s back in her arms. After days of anxious and dark thoughts about losing the only man she’s ever allowed herself to love, he’s finally here, in her arms.

However, that relief was short-lived as Ghost grabbed her shoulders and lifted her smaller figure away from him. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’ HERE?!”

That response startled her, “WH– I’M HERE TO SAVE YOU, YOU BIG BOZO!”

“YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE!”

Jade then wrestled her way out of Ghost’s weak hands, “YOU WENT MIA FOR DAYS!”

“FUCKIN’ HELL–” Trying to sit up abruptly turned out to be a big mistake as a sharp pain burst out from his side, making him grunt out loud. Noticing this, Jade held him up before he fell back down to the floor. She then glanced to his side, and there, she caught sight of a fresh graze wound on his side. Observing him further, she found a crudely tied, blood-stained bandage wrapped around his right shoulder. Judging by the sight of it, this might be the lucky shot that had subdued Ghost and made the Narcos manage to capture him.

Nevertheless, they needed to get out of this building before reinforcements arrived. Seeing the condition he was in, he'll need some assistance to even stand now. fighting off the reinforcement would be impossible. “This warehouse – where’s the supervisor?”

“I gutted him.” He growled, hatred filling his voice. She could easily deduce that the supervisor was the one who had been inflicting these wounds to him.

And so, she used all her strength to lift and help Ghost stand up. "Can you walk?"

"I can–" he stumbled to the wall, using his pained arms to support himself up. "Fuck…" It had been four days since he went MIA. That meant four days of badly treated wounds, blood spilling from the tortures, and no food. Still, he managed to escape and fight his way out, leaving dead bodies as his footsteps.

Such mental fortitude was something to be feared indeed.

"Alright, come 'ere, Big Man." Jade sneaked her hand behind his back and circled his arm around her shoulder before assisting him to quickly walk out of the damned warehouse. To hell with these drugs and the people inside.

"Watcher-1, this is Sierra-4.” Pressing the PTT, Jade contacted the CIA. “I've secured Bravo 0-7. I repeat, Bravo 0-7 is secured."

—------

Prior to arriving at the warehouse, Jade had located a rickety old cabin inside the forest. It was placed near a river far away from the warehouse. Though it’s not fully hidden, it worked well as a resting place for the night as it was pretty deep inside the forest, and of course, because there’s no way that the man that she was currently holding up could walk all the way to the nearby city.

Stepping into the wooden floors of the cabin, Jade glanced to the side where she found a single bed placed on the edge of the room. “There’s a bed there. Let’s get you down.” Straining her voice from holding Ghost’s weight for the entire 30-minute walk there, she finally sat Ghost down on the bed before he collapsed to his back, panting heavily and clearly out of fuel.

“Fuck… I’m beat.” He managed to breathe out with his sore voice.

“Here, drink some water. Drink all of it since we have a river in front.” Jade gave her own canteen to him, to which he chugged down to the last drop while still lying down.

In the meantime, Jade tinkered with her radio, pressing down on her PTT to contact Laswell.

“Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4 do you copy?”

Not long, the radio buzzed, “Sierra-4 this is Watcher-1, send traffic.”

“We’re currently holed up in an old cabin near a river about four clicks northwest of the warehouse. His radio was destroyed by a bullet, so that might be why his comms suddenly disappeared.”

A loud sigh of relief could be heard on the radio, “That’s great news. How is he looking?”

She took a glance at Ghost, who was still laying back while covering his eyes with the back of his hand. “Beat. But alive. Very lean. Injuries and wounds all over. He’d worn his mask when I found him, but…” A thought had been weighing on her mind the whole way they walked to the cabin. “If he got captured, then the first thing the Narcos did was obviously to take off his mask. Is his identity compromised now?”

“No. It’s still the same as ever. Even if they saw his face - as long as Ghost didn’t give out his name - there’s no record of his face anywhere. Every earlier visual identity had also been redacted.” Jade raised her eyebrows. So that’s how he maintained his anonymity all this time.

“That sounds like him. Anyway, we’re pretty deep in the woods. Sun’s going down, and the nearest town is around 15 kilos from here. I think we need to lay low for a while.”

“Copy that. I’ll see what I can do for your exfil, I’ll be in touch. You guys should rest for a while.” Laswell finally said, a tone of calm in her voice. “And thank you so much, Jade. I’m sorry for dragging you back again.”

Jade could only scoff at that. “It’s fine. Besides, if you’d sent out anyone else to find him… I’d be a wee~ bit offended.”

“Oh? Is this what I think it is?” She could clearly hear the wide smile on the CIA agent’s face.

“I’m gonna go patch the big man up now. Sierra-4 out.” Finally finishing her report with Laswell’s chuckle as the last thing she heard, Jade sighed, watching the strong and steady flow of the river below. It was freezing, but at least they had shelter. Now all she needed to do was keep Ghost alive and comfortable while keeping tabs with Laswell.

—

"Lottie, why are you here."

Ghost’s strained voice pulled Jade’s attention from the wound that she was currently treating on his shoulder. That crudely-tied bandage was not replaced at all after his capture and left a terrible-looking injury, which by the look of it, was obviously infected that when she’d pulled it, the skin that already tried to heal got pulled along with it.

"What? I thought I said to you already. Your radio cut off abruptly, so Laswell sent me out to find you." Jade answered, still dabbing cotton onto the lacerated skin caused by the bullet.

"Fuckin' hell…"

That tone irked her. "You sound like you don't want me here."

"That's right! I do NOT want you here!" Ghost yelled to her, making her lean back on the chair she was sitting on and stopped what she was doing. His angered face was a new sight for her.

"What?! Are you telling me to just stay back while I know you were captured?!"

“Laswell knew for a fact that this was not my first time going MIA. She did not have to tell you about it because as you could see, I got out on my own.” He told her harshly, that tone starting to aggravate her.

“You were missing! Can’t you see that I was worried for you?!” Jade countered, trying to keep her composure while he palmed his face in visible frustration, “More than two months you’ve been gone for a mission alone, and now that I finally have news about you, I was told that your radio cut off with gunshots!”

“You should’ve just stayed home and get on with your days. I never asked for you to come here.” Gravely he told her as he saw Jade’s eyes start to turn sombre. Those words came out of his mouth on their own.

Deep inside, Ghost knew what was coming – He needed to stop himself.

“I found you battered and bruised, Simon! You can’t just expect me to–”

"I don't need you to save me!” He raised his voice harshly, shocking her.

No. That was not what he wanted to say.

He knew; he truly knew it was the opposite.

He didn't want her to get hurt.

"I don't need you!”

Her face was everything he needed to know that he fucked up. Ghost saw her face turn to dread like her heart just got stabbed a thousand times over, that after everything she did, after everything she felt – it was only for him to tell her those words.

For a moment the only thing they heard was the pouring rain outside.

Before Ghost saw the woman in front of him grit her teeth, seeming like she chose to not believe what he just said.

“There were at least a dozen armed guards outside! What did you think you could do with those wounds?!" It was her turn to raise her voice, “If I hadn't been there to find you, what could you do with a gun an a knife?!"

It was the last thing that snapped him. Ghost ignored all the pain in his arms to grab onto her shoulders,

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU!”

And just like that, Jade gasped as she blinked. His grasp on her shoulder felt firm yet shaky, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of the searing pain or from the emotion he felt, as this is the first time she saw Ghost with that expression. Maskless, bruises all over, bloodshot eyes brimming with tears, and a face that had desperation and sorrow painted all over it.

He started with a low voice, but the emotions in his words still remained, “You’ve left this life for a reason, Lottie. And for a good one. Think of your mother, your father, your friends, who love you and care for you! What if you get hurt alone inside this fucking rainforest?! What if you die, huh?! What do I say to your parents?!"

"What if you die?!" Jade countered, trying to make sense of his words.

"I don't fucking care if I die!"

"You say that as if no one is waiting for you to come home! I DO!” Jade grabbed both of his hands from her shoulders, gathering them with her own. ”I love you!"

Her action surprised Ghost, but more than anything, the last three words felt like an epiphany.

"You think Kate should've just shut up about it and left me in the dark?! Well, that's just fucking stupid, Ghost. If you think that you did this for me, then you're wrong!” She shouted bitterly, her scowl taking over her face in such a way that it looked out of place, tears already brimming in her eyes.

"You think I didn't know that your missions are dangerous? I know that! That's why I can't just stand back while I know I have the full capability to find you! If it means that I can finally have you back, then to hell with my retirement! Great, now I'm crying!" All that stress and frustration of finding him these last four days came out of her in the form of tears streaming down her cheek. The thought of finding him beaten up, all bloody, or even worse, lifeless on the ground had been eating her mind. Nevertheless, she moved her body to find him, clinging to a desperate hope that he was still alive somehow.

Ghost could only watch as Jade buried her face in her palms, her sobs muffled by her hands. "We had a date, Simon…" That sentence felt like a thousand knives impaling his heart. He remembered being very excited that early morning, anticipating the ‘date’ with her. He remembered himself being so happy and delighted for the date, heck, he even fucking looked through his wardrobe to find the best fit for the occassion, only to be left feeling empty when he suddenly got a call to go on a mission. He could still recall how shaky his hands were when texting Jade that he couldn’t make it for the date.

"I was waiting for it. It's my first date, ever. So I'm sorry if I'm a little excited to see you, alright?" Jade raised her head to face him again, revealing her messy hair, red eyes, and cheeks smeared by tears. “I can’t lose you too."

Ghost didn't know if it was because of his courage or something else, but he moved his hand and put it right above hers, gently enveloping her hands. "I don't want you to get hurt, especially because of me." He started, looking softly into her eyes, "I'm sorry."

Hearing that broke something in him, as for once in his life, someone waited for him to come home. Someone wanted him to be fine, and it felt… foreign.

Now, that person was sitting before him. The woman he loved, and the one who loved him back, more than he deserved.

The fact that Ghost initiated the touch made butterflies fly wildly inside her stomach. The temperature of his skin was quite alarming though, so she kept that in mind. "Well thank you, for your consideration, but please,” Jade lifted her arm to wipe her face from the tears aggressively, sniffing her nose. “I can't have you just promise me a date one day and then disappear the next. I won't let you ghost me." Her lips pouted in a way that made him chuckle. He might go crazy if she kept doing this. "If it means finding you, then getting hurt is nothing. If you went MIA again, then I will go out and find you again."

Ghost still felt the pain all over his body, that argument took all the spare energy that he got. Meanwhile, Jade took the sewing kit from the side table, getting them ready to close Ghost's laceration.

"Also, put some credit on my name, alright? You know I can take care of myself, Ghost." Jade muttered while taking the forceps.

"I almost stabbed you though." He replied.

"Ah." That only occurred to her now. When he was fighting off the Narcos, he thought she was an enemy and launched a knife straight to her neck. "You were in full survival mode since the whole warehouse was trying to kill you. I understand."

"Shit… what would I say to your parents if I'd killed you?"

"Hmmm. 'Sorry, Sir, Ma'am. I killed your daughter by accident.’, and then your body would never be seen ever again, perhaps."

That got a light laugh out of him, "We're a crazy lot aren't we?"

"Damn right we are."

There was barely any alcohol to hold the pain as Jade sutured his wounds close, and even though she had mastered the medical suturing techniques, the searing pain was going to be there to stay.

All the while her hands work, she started again, "What did they do to you?"

Ghost flinched at the question. She really hoped it wasn't something too bad. From her observations, he was badly injured on the left side, which meant he must've been punched and kicked quite a lot by the Narcos. The right side had way fewer injuries, but the little lacerations on his head looked like something sharp.

He took a deep breath, "After they caught me, I was brought to the basement and they tied my hands on my back to a pole with a rope. My feet as well. They interrogated me about who I am and my ties with Alejandro Vargas. Of course I shut my mouth the entire time."

Jade still looked at him, sending him a signal that it was not was she was asking about. Ghost sighed, before answering again, "It wasn't much, just punches and kicks, splashed water on me. The leader was a huge twat though. He smashed a bottle of alcohol on my head." Ah. There's the answer to her questions.

"And I'm assuming you used the shards to cut the ropes to escape?" She inquired, her hands still working.

"Yeah."

"...You okay?"

He always hated the question, but coming from her, it felt different. Ghost knew how she had experienced the same things before considering they work on similar grounds. And if he wanted to be honest on the answer, she won't get much. "I'm mostly annoyed at their leader the whole time. Just thinking of how to get out of there." Ghost finally answered, "I've experienced far worse. If anything, they lacked creativity."

Jade sighed, not the worst answer. Either he was hiding the mental trauma or he's just that dulled to tortures. From the outside he looked fine and he acted like this was just another business day, but she could never guess what's going on inside his mind.

That last sentence made her chuckle though. "What do you think they should've done to make you speak?"

Ghost looked like he really considered it, "...To make me speak? No idea. Probably your favourite method."

"My method?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Nail-pulling."

"I--" Oh good heavens, he'd set 'nail-pulling' as her favoured method of tortures. "Okay, if and only if you have the right tools, alright."

He let out a chuckle, prompting her to laugh as well as she finished the suture on his wounds.

—---

Cleaning up Ghost's injuries was relatively easy, as he didn't have any lethal wounds that required urgent care and deep medical knowledge. Still, watching him hiss and grunt as she sewed his lacerations was hard to do. She kept mumbling soft "Sorry, sorry." to him in a vain attempt to soothe his pain. At some point, it appeared that Ghost was completely out of fuel and dozed off sitting up while she was cleaning his skin from the blood and dirt. Closing his wounds was only the first step of first-aid care because what came after could be harder to treat since he had that infected wound on his shoulder.

He hadn't eaten in days, was completely out of energy, had a significant blood loss, bruises all over his body, and that infected wound had finally shown its damned effect: fever.

Jade sighed. As much as he needed the rest, he needed to eat. She'd brought some antibiotic meds, but in order to have them he had to eat first. Her legs brought her to the cabinet near the end of the bed, fortunately finding a good clean sheet of the blanket. Though, it wasn't thick enough for her liking, plus it was pretty small in size and would barely cover his large frame. Beggars can’t be choosers, so she draped the cloth onto his shoulders and his legs, making sure his figure was covered.

Opening her backpack, Jade fished out two sets of MREs, along with a ration heater. With his wounds finally dressed up and he's sleeping soundly, she walked out of the cabin to the riverside, filling her canteen with fresh river water. Pouring the water into the ration heater along with the MREs inside, Jade walked back to the doorway to avoid the rain, waiting patiently as she wiped the rainwater off of her skin.

While she was letting the heating pack do its job, she sat back on the wooden floor, slowly untying her braids that had gone messy from the actions and the rain. Fully getting the braids undone, her hair finally became loose completely, falling on her shoulders, back, and chest in the most chaotic way possible that Jade had to run her hands through her thick hair to detangle the mess.

"Lottie?"

Ghost's weak voice startled her, making her turn around and saw the man himself standing right behind her, blanket around his shoulders. “Ghost?! What– you should’ve just slept! You can’t stand just yet–”

“Relax,” He said softly, sitting down beside her with visible struggle. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I won’t die from moving 10 steps.”

Seeing how he coughed wetly made her pout in disagreement. She still thought he needed to stay in bed. “How are you feeling though?”

"...like death.”

“I thought so. Your temp was concerning. May I touch your forehead? I have to feel your temp." Ghost nodded, still, her soft touch on his forehead and neck caught him off guard, as she stared at him trying to concentrate on measuring the heat of his skin. “You’re burning up! Dammit.” Jade exclaimed upon feeling the rise of his fever, it baffled her how he still had the energy to stand up with all those wounds.

Out of nowhere, Ghost felt pressure on his chest, before realizing that it was Jade pressing her ears to his thorax.

He froze right there and there, turning into stone like Medusa just stared him down. Ghost sucked his teeth and looked up to hold in his blush. He knew a hundred per cent that she was checking his breathing for that terrible wet cough he let out, but his brain had turned into a mush, his heart beating so fast like he just ran a fucking marathon. She definitely could hear his racing heartbeat, but no matter how much he tried to tell his heart to stop fucking beating like there's a whole damned carnival inside his chest, it was proven futile.

“Take a deep breath.” Her voice was the only thing that snapped him out of his thoughts, doing what she told him to do.

After hearing the air going in and out of his lungs a number of times, Jade finally leaned back again. “Yup. I’m no medic, but I can hear pneumonia coming when I hear one. You need to go back to bed.” She stood up and tried to pull him up, which was to no avail as he was still dumbfounded on the event that just happened. "The sun's setting down and the rain won't stop anytime soon. It'll get colder than this."

“I just got here–”’

“Back. To. Bed.”

Has she always been this demanding? He never liked being told what to do when it's not from someone of higher rank, but he could surely get used to this one. Ghost couldn't help the small smile on the corner of his lips as he stood up, walking towards the hard bed slowly before sitting down again. She gathered the steaming rations on her hands and sat back on the chair, his heart swole in a way he never thought it could.

"I brought chicken sausage and… pasta bolognese. You can choose whatever and I'll take the other one." Jade said, opening the lids to let the heat out while waiting for Ghost's answer, but when he didn't say anything, only gazing at the foods, a thought clicked in her mind. "Or or or, you can have both of them, if you want. I'm sure you're starving."

"...What about you?" Yep, she guessed right. He wanted both of them. Big man needed a big meal.

"Don't worry about me. You haven't eaten in days. I already had mine before coming to the facility, so I'm good, I promise."

A gulp, "Can I have both?"

"Sure."

----------

He’s back under that suffocating, smothering coffin under the ground. Trapped alone in the dark, he felt his heart beat racing, pounding against his chest that he could hear it on his ears.

He couldn’t breathe.

He’s afraid.

Ghost tried to bang his fist against the roof, but it wouldn’t budge. Even until his arms were bruised, until blood came out, he felt that the earth would swallow him whole any second, before Ghost felt the wooden base of the coffin disappear into dust, which made his body fall into a deep, bottomless void, getting farther and farther from the coffin.

Just as he thought that he’d forever fall without end, his back hit the ground with a great force, waking him up from his nightmare. Ghost opened his eyes with a jolt of his entire body, breathing fast and laboured as if he’d just gained back his ability to take air in.

"Hey."

The familiar voice called to him, prompting the man to focus his blurred vision, finding Jade. He’s finally awake enough to register that this is no longer inside the coffin where he was buried alive, but inside a wooden cabin deep in a rainforest. The rain still falling outside, the sun long gone, only the moon to accompany them. His surroundings were dark, save for the soft yellow lighting from a portable bonfire on the bedside table. Ghost was laying on his side facing her, nothing to support his head from the absence of pillows.

He then saw that his hand was grabbing Jade’s wrist in a death grip, almost shaking. She looked like she was startled by the sudden grip of her wrist when she'd just been wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief, but she didn’t show any sign of panic or daze, just calmness inside her eyes. "Nightmare?"

Ghost released his grip and answered with an alarming wet cough, his breathing starting to sound difficult, before weakly muttering, "Why aren't you asleep?"

"You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor–" He tried to wake up before being pushed down back to the bed on his side.

"Your fever got worse, you were sweating, and shivering as well. That infected wound on your shoulder added to the problem." Ghost might not be in his best condition, but he could hear her worry as clear as day.

She looked messy with the very long red locks of hers undone, contrasting with her usual tidy and orderly appearance. And to be frank, she’d had that worried tone since the second she found him in the warehouse, since she heard that he was missing, and probably since the day he texted her that he’d had to go on a mission.

"That is total nonsense! I'm not the one who's beaten up right now!” The logic must have left him because of the fever. Did he really want to sleep on the hard wooden floor with those bruises all over his body?!

The usual Ghost would retort some sarcasm towards her, but all he did right now was to stare at her. Jade would've thought that he's completely out of it from the illness, until he mumbled,

"...You should let your hair down more often."

"...wHaT?” her voice cracked at his words. Why was he talking about her hair all of a sudden?

A light cough, “I said you should let your hair down more.”

“Wh– Why?" She chuckled, half amused and half confused. "Look at them. My hair's a mess if I let it down. It's really hard to take care of, especially in the wind. Let it touch the rain, and air drying it is basically a recipe for disaster." The ginger said while rubbing her heavily tangled hair. She had intended to brush them when Ghost was asleep earlier, but she must admit that she didn’t have the energy to do it. Days of tracking and helping him had taken more of her than she’d expected.

"That's precisely why." Ghost started, still eyeing her face softly.

"...What do you mean?"

"Beautiful.” He confessed, "You're beautiful when your hair's a mess, so let it down."

A pause as he tried to rack up an answer in his jumbled brain. "It's not sudden. I've always liked it."

The sentence baffled, perplexed, and shocked her. Why did he say that? Why was he doing this?? What kind of dream or nightmare did he have?? Jade’s jaw dropped to the floor, her face turned almost as red as her hair because of that particular sentence. Ghost had never been one for talking, let alone compliments. That was the normal, healthy Ghost, then. So if he's on the opposite condition…

"I– What's with the sudden flattery??"

No one ever complimented her hair. Since she was a baby, a child, a kid in the orphanage, she kept being skipped by potential parents because of her striking red hair.

Jade recalled how she would see a couple shake their heads as they whispered among each other, quickly looking at the other orphans. Her brothers and sisters come in and go to their new parents, while she stayed. And for that reason, she grew to dislike – hate her hair, only until recently did she ever see a good in them.

And now, this man just admitted that he had always liked her hair since the day he met her, albeit… in a feverish, delirious state?

"T-thank you for saying that, Simon." Finally finding the courage to react, Jade continued, "but anyway, how are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"...cold." Ghost mumbled.

For sure that thin blanket would be doing anything in the cold rain. There was no more piece of clothing or any blankets left inside the house to use. She had started a little portable bonfire on the bedside table to give the room some form of luminescence as the sun was long gone, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop his shiverings.

Holding his eyes open was already a heavy task for him, but this cold felt like a thousand knives on his skin. He wanted to sleep, God, he wanted to sleep. He’s exhausted, except getting trapped in that coffin and buried alive inside that dream was the last thing he wanted to experience right now. Getting air into his lungs was also a burden to his chest. Even with the painkillers and antibiotic Jade had given him, his wounds hurt all over.

However, this is nothing.

Ghost had experienced this before, far, far worse than this, and he was still alive. He’ll tank through the cold, he could endure any pain.

It’s the same as ever.

Nothing’s different.

Had he ever heard that kind of sentence before?

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Jade softly muttered to him, looking at him not with a look of pity, but of compassion and willingness to help.

"Do you mind a– um… A cuddle?” The woman sitting beside his bed said nervously, prompting him to look at her face. "Shared body temperature. I suppose it's effective in this situation."

He took that back.

It's different now.

“...No.” He replied shortly.

"Really?”

“Yeah.”

“O-okay! The bed’s small, can you face the other way?” She asked, to which he nodded before he used all the energy he had left in his body to lie on his other side. With heavy clumsiness, he finally faced the wooden wall. The light of the moon shone through the window, hitting his face softly. Not long, he felt a dip on the other side of the bed. Jade had climbed on the bed and fixed the thin blanket to cover his figure properly. Ghost could feel her presence on his back, looming behind him. He didn’t know what to do, obviously. He never really shared a bed with anyone in a long time, let alone a woman. It’s almost pathetic.

“Can I… wrap my arm around you?” Jade asked hesitantly to the back of his head. “I–I don’t mean anything weird, just to warm you up! Like I said I love you and all – and I do mean that – but in case you’re not comfortable with me hugging you I will totally understand and—”

“I said I don’t mind it.” Ghost cut her off before she could blabber more.

“Okay… I’ll just. Put my left arm above you. Like this.” Lifting her arm, she then gently put her wrist on his shoulder, just barely beyond his side line. “This okay?”

“...Hm.” She’s pressed to him. She’s affirmatively pressed to his back. Her warmth instantly traveled to his entire figure, pleasantly so.

“Good. That’s really great, yeah. Your shoulder is really high, wow." He couldn’t say anything to that. Is that a compliment? “While we’re at it, lift your head up a little bit.”

Even though it confused him, he did what she told, and an arm sneaked its way past his cheek and placed it firmly there, and before he could ask her what was she trying to do, he got his answer. “I’m your pillow.”

Ghost let out a chuckle at her retort, and to be honest, he didn’t have any strength left to refuse the offer. His neck hurt and his head felt dizzy without a pillow, so he dropped his head right then and there on Jade’s bicep, and what she didn’t expect was the fact that he deliberately scooted back even further, finally clinging to her figure – a relaxed huff leaving him.

And just like that, Jade’s assumption that Ghost didn’t like hugs went down the bloody drain. She had to bite her lips in order to hold in the scream inside her. God, he must’ve felt her racing heartbeat on his back. He sounded like a literal puppy with that last huff. If she has a third arm she would’ve loved to pet his hair.

------

The rain hadn’t stopped since they arrived at the cabin. The cold seeped through the woods, piercing through Jade’s skin as she made Ghost have the blanket. Other than that, the woman couldn’t deny the soreness on her arm as his head was pretty heavy. She didn’t mind it at all though, as long as he was comfortable, a sore arm was nothing compared to what he must be feeling.

It’s been about an hour since she climbed the bed to cuddle with him. Jade could really tell a lot about his condition from this distance. He’s really hot to the touch, his shoulders moved up and down in a quite fast pace. Still, it seemed that the shared body temperature worked as his shivers stopped. Was he already asleep?

Jade moved the hand that was on his shoulder to the front of his face – waving it up and down.

"I'm still up." His deep voice startled her.

Shit. He’s still awake. "S– Sorry. Just checking."

Meanwhile Jade was waiting for him to sleep, Ghost couldn’t even bring himself to sleep, for fuck’s sake. And not because of the nightmare, but because of her presence on his back was all he could think about. He felt relaxed, but not relaxed at the same time. It’s like his entire being felt safe in her arms and presence, yet his mind thought that he didn’t deserve this. Because she had searched for him, she had to leave her home, family, and friends again, and even though Jade had told him that she would always go and find him – and the things he said to her – he still felt like an arse.

"Lottie."

Jade noticed the name, prompting her to blink. "Mm? You okay?"

“Thank you... for saving me. And about what I said,” A brief pause, “I've hurt you. I'm sorry."

She stayed silent, looking at the back of his head. Ghost was always a blunt person, and it wasn't the first hurtful thing that he'd said to her. Calling her a midget was one thing, but saying that he didn't need her?

She knew he was in immense pain and under heavy mental duress from the imprisonment, but if what he said was true…

"Did you mean it? What you said?" Jade finally replied back, questioning him about the words he'd said. She wanted to know if he really mean what he said. She needed to know.

It took a few seconds for Ghost to answer, seeming like he was preparing himself. "No. Quite the opposite."

Hearing those words from him felt like a earning medal, prompting a smile coming from her lips. "Thank you, Simon. For staying alive.”

“Will you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, because..." Jade lightly sighed behind him, "I need you too.''

And he thought he had a cold heart. That one simple sentence coming out from the one person he allowed himself to love after such a long, long time, made his heart - no, his entire being melt right then and there, in her arms.

A mosquito decided to land on Jade’s hand, making her sway the bug away. “Oof, there’s some bugs here.”

"...What's the bugs' favourite band?"

Oh great heavens. A pun at a time like this? "...what is it?"

"Bee Gees."

"Oh that's goooood." She must admit that his timing was immaculate. "You ever watch Bee Movie though?"

"...Only bee I know in movies is Bumblebee in Transformers."

"Yeah well. Suits you I guess. And good for you for being oblivious about the Bee Movie."

"What kind of movie is that?" He asked.

"A movie. About bees suing humans."

"The fuck?"

"Yea yea yea we'll watch it when we get home. Now sleep." Jade chuckled. "Good night, Beanpole."

"Goodnight, Midget."

"I'm right here if you need me."

*****

"I know."

It's finally here!! To be continued in Part 2!

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aussiepineapple1st · 10 days

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Overwhelmed with love.

#aussiepineapple1st #ghoap #soap #ghost #call of duty #modern warfare #whump #fluff #comfort #hurt comfort #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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journen · 1 year

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Obligatory « one character is injured and in the hospital while the other watches over them at their bedside » art lol. 🥺 Poor Ghost! And there’s 2 versions because i’m indecisive. 😅 Backstory under the cut!

I was imagining that while on a mission, Ghost got trapped in a collapsing building. Soap witnessed the whole thing and was the main one to dig him out. Simon’s injuries were thankfully not too severe, but it was definitely scary. Now, left with probably several cracked ribs, a concussion, facial wound from where some debris cracked his mask, as well as other possible injuries not visible under his blanket - Soap watches over him lol, only sustaining v minor injuries himself.

I also imagine Johnny would def bring a mask to cover Simon’s face for some of the time he was in the hospital. He respects him that much and knows he is wouldn’t want others seeing his face.

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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

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Locked Out (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: 18+, explicit sexual content, language, mentions of blood Word count: 4.2k

Summary: When you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, Anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

Author's Note: Inspired by true events that involved all the frustration but none of the fun 😜 This was just an idea that rooted itself. A silly little fic outside my usual style. Thanks to @faye-tale for chatting with me while I waited for a locksmith. 😊 And thanks to @colettebronte who always has the right JB pic for the job. 💜

You knew this would happen. You had never trusted the smart lock ever since Anthony had installed it. Either some criminal masterminds would hack the whole network of them, or the battery would die and leave you precisely where you were now, standing on the stoop in the chilly air as midnight approached, the moon and your phone as your only light sources. Again you wondered what was so bad about traditional locks as your phone flashed the error message. But Anthony had to get his way, as usual. One news story about a burglar three towns away and the next day he had bought every ‘smart’ home security device on the market.

Well now the stupid lock didn’t work. The first time you had pressed the button you assumed you had tapped something wrong, given how distracted you were. Anthony was crowding against you, one hand slithering over your backside while the other moved to wrap lightly around your throat. He was breathing heavy in your ear, licking your neck with his untamable tongue, a move that always made your eyes cross a bit. But now you had tried three times to unlock the door and it clearly wasn’t working.

“Anthony…”

He just rumbled in response, biting your lobe.

“Anthony!” You nudged him back with your hips, trying to snap him out of it. “The damn lock is broken.”

“What?” Of course he then had to inspect it himself for a full five minutes, trying every trick on his phone that you had, to no avail.

You stood with your arms crossed. “Where’s the spare key?”

Even in the dim light you could see his jaw set with aggravation. “Inside.”

You scoffed, “You didn’t hide it outside like you said you would?”

“I don’t want to leave a key to our property lying around for anyone to find. This thing was supposed to be top-of-the-line.” He growled.

You couldn’t help your eyes from rolling. “Anthony, that’s why you hide it…”

“Let me try the back.” He jogged off the steps and around the house through your garden gate. You both knew full well that he had rigged your back door with the same space age lock as the front and wasn’t likely to have any success. All you wanted was to get inside, to get warm and have a glass of wine. You looked up at the glare of the full moon. That must be to blame for your misfortune.

You weren’t going to wait forever and searched the number for a 24-hour locksmith. You were just about to dial when the sound of shattering glass echoed over your lawn followed by a loud curse. Oh good lord…

Before you could even detect which side of the house it came from, Anthony stepped out of the shadows, holding a forearm aloft.

“Anthony Bridgerton, what the hell did you do?” You hissed as loud as you dared, mindful of disturbing your neighbors.

But you knew exactly what he had done when he drew closer and you could see the bloody pulp that now constituted his knuckles. More alarming was the long, jagged tear in the sleeve of his shirt through which you could see the matching slice on his skin, blood already seeping out to darken the fabric.

“Broke the side window,” he grumbled.

“And how did that work out for you, genius?”

His eyes flashed. “The damn latch is too high. I couldn’t reach it inside.”

Excellent. Now you would need to replace your window as well as hire a locksmith. Your simple date night was turning into quite the misadventure. The cold was starting to seep in. Not expecting to spend time outside, you wore only a dress and no coat. You were so tired and irked you were bordering on a tantrum. But your husband was bleeding, quite a lot, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ream him out while he was injured.

“Jesus,” You huffed, taking his good arm and pulling him over to your car in the drive. Fortunately this piece of your property had a keyfob, making it your only form of shelter at the moment. “Sit down,” you ordered, opening the driver’s side door and pushing him into the seat. You crouched next to him and turned his wrist to inspect the damage. It was ugly, the whole sleeve from the elbow down stained red already.

Before you even suggested it, he tugged the cuff of his other sleeve with his teeth, slipping his whole shirt up and over his head until it hung only on his bloodied limb.

“Haven’t you ever watched movies?” You chastised as you began to wind the fabric around the gash. A gorgeous knit shirt ruined forever. “You wrap your arm with your shirt before you punch through glass.”

“Well I’m sorry for trying to solve our problem.” He snipped. You responded by pulling a tight knot, causing him to hiss.

But your frustrated energy threatened to redirect into something else entirely as you surveyed him. Even after all this time together, you went a bit speechless whenever you saw him shirtless. It really was obscene for someone to be so attractive. Broad-shouldered and muscular, with the most perfect patch of soft hair across his chest. Running your hands over him had reached the level of compulsion, beyond mere desire. Seeing as his torso was streaked with blood from his haphazardly bandaged arm, you gave in under the pretense of tending to him. You drifted your fingers up his carved abdomen and onto his chest where his movements slowed under your palm, his breaths deepening.

“I don’t have anything to clean you up with.” You were more agitated than apologetic. How fast were you going to devolve into naked, bloodied neanderthals all because you didn’t have a house key?

“It’s fine.” He laid his good hand over yours, holding it in place. You could feel the strong thrum of his heart. He knew what he was doing. Trying to dissipate your anger by turning himself into a distraction. But you wouldn’t let him. Someone had to remedy this situation.

You quirked a brow. “Should I call the paramedics or the locksmith?”

His pursed-lips look of annoyance was one you saw often and always relished. It was usually the only way he admitted you were right in a spat. Nudging him a few inches, you perched next to him on the seat.

“How long will they take?” he asked when you hung up.

“Half an hour.”

“What are we supposed to do until then?” You knew that silky edge to his voice and turned to look at him. His eyes, always dark, glinted most dangerously at night. Darkness suited him much more than daylight and even though you knew your husband was putty in your hands, one flash of those eyes made you feel like prey.

You shivered, due to him as much as the wind. “Whatever we do, I’m staying in here. It’s too cold.” You wouldn’t give in that easily. You stood and moved to walk to the passenger side but an arm curled around your waist and tugged you back onto his lap, then the door was pulled shut beside you.

“Imagine how cold I am without a shirt on.” His low voice reverberated through the enclosed space and soft lips landed on your shoulder. His arm was still banded around you, holding you tight. The devil.

You twisted to face him again, already knowing you would lose this battle. He smirked, just a glimpse of teeth in the blue glow of the fading dash lights lending fangs to your predator. Wasn’t he the wounded one? How did he gain the upper hand so quickly? You rested your hands on his chest again and knew he was lying. He was warmer than you and heating up by the second, his breath gusting over your forearms as you stared each other down. Each time you touched one another in places otherwise typically clothed, it brought out your animalistic tendencies. But seeing him like this, cast in shadow and roughed up, was causing something especially carnal to simmer inside you.

“We can turn the car on for heat.” You argued, never wanting to grant him the last word.

But then he pressed himself against you, hands spreading wide to grasp your bottom as he nuzzled his jaw against your cheek. He knew all of your buttons. One pass of his short beard across your skin and it was over.

“Mmmm…” he hummed in your ear, the baritone he reserved to devastate you. “Bad for the environment. We can keep each other warm.”

Then his tongue resumed its journey up your neck, leaving you gasping until he traced it into your waiting mouth.

Damn him. You hated and loved how easily he made you go to pieces. If you were being honest, the feelings worked in tandem. It was often when you were the most aggravated with him that you reached the highest peaks in your lovemaking. As your tongues swirled around each other, you knew this would be one of those times. But you’d have to be quick unless you wanted to put on a show for the locksmith. This was reckless, juvenile, but you didn’t care.

“I suppose you’re right.” You murmured over his lips then pushed him roughly back against the seat. His eyes lit with excitement as you maneuvered to straddle him, hiking your skirt up your thighs, kicking off your heels and underwear as you went. His splayed hands ran up to your back and crushed you to him for another hungry kiss. You moaned into one another, overcome with the rush of it all, with the risk you may be seen. As you held his jaw possessively, you wormed a hand down to the seam of his trousers.

“Do you have enough blood left to power this thing?” You smirked, nipping at his lower lip.

“See for yourself,” came the husky reply. Pressing down, you felt the bulge and rocked your palm against it. His responding noise caused a familiar jolt of desire to shoot through your every cell. You knew you were already soaking, aching and ready for him. In a flurry, the two of you fought off his belt and buttons and shoved his clothes down his thighs until his cock sprang free, rigid and hot in your hand. Positioning yourself, you swiped the head across your entrance, gathering the slick then swirling it around your throbbing clit. Anthony groaned, biting his lip and gripping you tight by the hips as you lined up and sank down onto him, your cry seeming all the louder in the small, insulated cab.

There was a reason you had given him the private nickname ‘Logsplitter’. Getting far too candid over too many drinks one night, you had told him how fantastically split open he made you feel. Had described that meniscus seal between pain and pleasure and how his body drove yours to it perfectly and kept you dancing upon it until it fractured and plunged you into liquid bliss. The next day you had been mortified but he eased your anxieties by making it the most enduring joke in your relationship. The bastard had even woven it into his wedding speech, announcing that he would still find joy in life’s mundane tasks with you, whether it be laundry, dishes, or log splitting. Public mentions of it sent heat rushing to your cheeks, but in practice behind closed doors it sent heat rocketing under every inch of your skin. He was so stiff and formidable, stretching you so splendidly. You began to move so that you could savor every inch.

Planting your hands on his shoulders for leverage you began to ride him at a steady clip, reminding yourself that you couldn’t dally. His fingers pressed deeper into your hips as his breath turned staccato with whispered curses. You gave a passing thought to the fact that his injured arm was probably streaking blood across your dress, but thankfully it was black and therefore might be saved.

As much as you were enjoying yourself, this was still a ridiculous situation. Bleeding and rutting in the driver’s seat of your car like you were criminal lovers on the lam and not just idiots who hadn’t kept a spare key to the house. And you were on a timeline. Fueled by a potent blend of frustration and arousal you began to move faster, pistoning on your knees as the leather squeaked. There wasn’t much extra space on the seat for your legs and your increased pace made you slip, pitching forward as one shin fell off the side.

Anthony caught you, hands moving up to your ribs as he chuckled. “Woah. Do I need to strap you in, baby girl?”

You could have slapped him. He only used that name for you when he really wanted to get you riled. Clearly he was enjoying your little tryst, finding the fun in this mess that he caused. You’d like to see him try and fuck you in the front seat. Glaring, you stepped on the recline controls and he stuttered in surprise as he sank backward until he was supine beneath you. Steadying yourself again you doubled your efforts, riding him hard as you held him pinned at the chest.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much.” You ground out.

“What?” He played the innocent.

“We could be inside,” You panted, every word bouncing with your movements. “In bed. Uninjured. If you had just hidden the key…” Your breath caught as you tilted your hips and felt him strike against the deepest part of you, a twinge that increased your ache. “...and not changed the stupid locks.”

“So this is my fault?” His voice was all seduction, no remorse to be found. His eyes, what little you could see of them, gazed up at you as a hand moved to knead your breast.

“Yes.” You moaned, starting to climb the ladder as his fingers and his cock simultaneously found all the right spots to make you mindless.

“And you’re mad at me?”

“So fucking mad.” You gasped, leaning forward into his palm and angling yourself just so, feeling the ridge of him deep inside start to massage your center of sensation.

He craned his neck to ghost his lips over yours and whispered, “How can I apologize?”

Then his hand moved below your skirt and his fingertips found your clit. Pierced with sensation, you screamed some garbled syllables of his name.

He chuckled, warm and dark. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Oh, he was awful. Driving you to delirium even when you were the one on top. You had found your rhythm, rolling your hips to sink him perfectly into place over and over. Coupled with the press of his circling fingers, you were shooting up the ladder, your blood beginning to hum with anticipation. Maybe you could pull this off in time after all.

“Fuck you…” you hissed.

“You certainly are.”

“Anthony, shut up!” You clamped a hand over his mouth, bringing the other to claw into his shoulder. You had assumed Anthony Bridgerton, man of refined tastes, would have found this all as debased as you did, but he was evidently having the time of his life. Maybe the laugh riot was precisely because he knew you were so flustered, which just made you angrier. But the anger was consigned to your mind only, as your body delighted in him. Warm and firm beneath your palms, he started to move with you, thrusting ever so slightly while his mangled hand pulled you down at the hip, slamming your bodies together as tight as he could on your every descent. His fingers swirled faster, just where you needed them, and soon enough you reached the top rungs, everything surging within.

Anthony mumbled something against your fingers, his breath hot and short, matching yours as you hovered over him. You released him, your mind too clouded with pleasure to fight him anymore. Your thighs began to quake while the rest of you started to tense.

“It feels like you’re about to forgive me.” He purred, and all you could do was whine, squeezing your eyes shut as your hips bucked against him desperately. “Come on then,” he coaxed. “I think I’ve earned it.”

One more thrust and circle of his fingers and you peaked, crying out as your nails sank into the flesh of his shoulder and your other hand scrabbled for purchase in his thick hair. Release radiated out from the epicenter of his touch, spasms clenching around his cock which now felt impossibly huge, fanning out through every muscle. You writhed, circling your pelvis against his as you rode it out and moaned.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he growled from the darkness. “That’s my girl.”

Gasping, you collapsed on top of him, basking in the warmth of his bare skin and the caresses of his hands across your back as aftershocks curled your spine. As you floated, you trailed your fingers into his chest hair. You contemplated extending your forgiveness verbally too, but when you propped up to look at him you saw a flash of headlights through the back window. A truck was turning down your street.

You cursed under your breath and glanced a kiss across Anthony’s lips before pulling yourself off of him and opening the door, stumbling out into the driveway, your mind still swimming. You tugged your skirt down and tried to smooth your hair as Anthony scrambled to hitch his clothes back over his stark erection.

“Stay here,” you cautioned and closed the door.

The truck was indeed the locksmith, a very beatific fellow named Lumley. He didn’t cast any judgment as you explained your situation. He professed to having seen it all and you believed him. But you might have been added to his list of unusual encounters after he deftly popped the door lock and let you in to turn on your lights. That’s when his eyes widened and he asked if you were alright. You looked down and realized he was gesturing to the blood streaks on your exposed arms. The way he fixated on your chin, you suspected you had a streak there too.

You laughed to calm him, explaining that your husband had cut his hand (you elected not to tell him how) and that you were both perfectly fine and would clean up now that you could get inside. A little shaken, he politely wrapped up your transaction and drove away. You were too relieved to be embarrassed and went to collect Anthony from the car.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” You swung the door open to find him still reclined. His trousers were back on thankfully, but he was slumped, eyes closed, cradling his raggedly wrapped arm. “Anthony?” You put a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

He blinked his eyes open and looked at you blearily. “Feeling a bit woozy.” He mumbled.

Fantastic. Not only had he lost blood, he had sent whatever remained shooting down to his cock and now there was none left in his brain. You didn’t think you were strong enough to carry him indoors if he collapsed, but you wouldn’t leave him in the damned car any longer. Tugging him by his good arm to slowly stand, you then draped it over your shoulders and steered him inside. He could walk just fine even if his head was drooping a bit.

You kicked the door closed behind you and walked to the sofa, easing him onto it.

“Aright, sit down. I’m going to get the first aid kit.”

You turned but were immediately halted by a hand around your wrist.

“There’s only one thing that’s going to make me feel better.”

The next you knew, you were on your back on the sofa, Anthony pressing you down as his lips consumed yours. He vocalized his want down your throat as his beard rasped against you. What happened to woozy? Maybe being horizontal was the only way he could function at the moment. He rocked his hips between yours, his unsatisfied stiffness insistently seeking entry. Within seconds you were ignited again, helpless against the weight of him, the taste of him, the smell of him.

“Anthony, if you stain the couch too, I swear…” You mumbled as he sucked at your neck. Tallying the cleanup that remained between the shattered window and your ruined clothes, you would not sacrifice your plush upholstery too. Reaching behind your head, you dragged the throw blanket from the arm of the sofa and quickly bunched it under his blood soaked shirt bandage. He didn’t seem to have heard you, or perhaps he just didn’t care, as he balanced on that elbow and used his other hand to tear open his trouser buttons. You lifted your skirt and helped him, as eager for this as he was.

You groaned in stereo as he sank into you once again, the sensation more overwhelming now that he was on top of you. His tongue dove into your mouth as well, the most delicious parts of him penetrating you as deeply as they could simultaneously. Vanilla as this position may have been in comparison, you loved it. Being completely underneath him, crushed, consumed and controlled by him. You had taken your pleasure and now you wanted to be a ragdoll in his arms. You didn’t know if your desires were romantic or perverse, but you didn’t care. The feeling of being filled and surrounded by the man you loved made you wildly aroused.

With no pretense, Anthony went to work pummeling you, chasing his release as urgently and selfishly as you had chased yours. You opened your legs wide, locking your ankles around his back and letting him plough even deeper. You still found this entire ordeal comical, but the man deserved some relief. In the span of an hour he had been chastised, injured, exposed and now blue-balled. This was his only reprieve until you had to undertake the ghastly business of dealing with his wound. And he was bringing pleasure to more than just himself. Predictably, his every thrust teased your clit, his sizable cock pulling all of you so tight that every feeling was heightened. While he panted harsh in your ear, you ran your nails down his rippled back and pert bum, leveraging with your wrapped legs to push up into him, the two of you grinding into one another as you whispered encouragements.

He was splitting you, sending you back to that place where all of your focus zoned in on the feeling of him inside, the relentless pounding of his body into yours that promised to quell every need of your flesh. Your whispered filth turned into small cries and then into silence as he drove harder and harder, his movements frenzied as he started to growl, pushing for the finish. All you could do was hold on as your whole body shifted beneath him, wearing tracks into the upholstery under your shoulders. You held your breath as your mouth fell open, unfailingly stunned at how he could propel you to the edge so easily. He shifted to look down at you. His hair was growing damp with sweat, a chestnut curl falling beautifully across his forehead. His dark eyes locked into yours, molten. You could read it in each other’s faces - you would come undone together.

Sparing Anthony the balancing act, you brought your hand between your legs and in seconds were breaking, tossing your head back as you succumbed. While the rest of you trembled, you clung to him with your limbs, luxuriating in all the hallmarks of his orgasm, triggered by your own. The way his back arched under your hands as his hips stuttered between your thighs. You loved how his whole body went rigid just before you felt the pulsing inside. He made the most beautiful gasping sound, so contrasted with his animalistic growls leading up to it, his mouth hanging open against your cheek, hot breath stirring your hair.

Absorbing each other’s tremors, he melted into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck and going full dead weight. You tightened your hold around him before he rolled onto the floor. You wound a hand into his hair, tracing patterns across his scalp as you both caught your breath. You looked over at his maimed arm and grimaced. It was a bloody mess. How he had been in the mood for not one, but two romps without a single complaint about an open laceration was a level of stubbornness and libido possessed only by Anthony Bridgerton. Now playtime was over. You had to be adults and handle this.

You kissed the top of his head. “Anthony.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even grunt in acknowledgement.

You felt a stab of alarm and shook him lightly. “Anthony?”

Then he groaned, nuzzling closer into you. “I think you’re right,” he slurred against your neck. “I need stitches.”

You rolled your eyes but rubbed his back reassuringly. It appeared the adventures of the evening would continue. You just hoped he could still stumble back to the car.

“Okay. I’ll get you another shirt and then drive you to the hospital. And we are taking the spare key with us.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton smut #female reader #smut #whump #modern au #bridgerton smut

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

Text

Eden

TW: kidnapping, captivity, creepy/intimate whumper, pet whumpee, referenced drugging, referenced stalking, emotional manipulation, referenced depression

As he roused from a deep sleep, Ezra found himself curled up on the sofa in his living room.

He racked his brain as his senses slowly reaserted themselves, but found no recollection of where he had been the previous night, or how he had gotten home.

The cloying smell of lavender perfume overwhelmed him. Ezra didn't wear perfume.

As more sensations flooded his body, he realized his head way laying on someone's lap.

Someone who was running their fingers through his hair.

None of his friends were this affectionate. They all knew him to be severely touch averse. They wouldn't try something like this.

Trying to sit up, he found his arms to be bound behind him with soft, but tight strips of fabric.

This finally spiraled Ezra into panic. He thrashed, struggling to get away from whoever was with him, putting his full strength into breaking his bindings.

Despite his best efforts, his sluggish body couldn't move enough to fall off the stranger's lap, let alone escape.

The stranger had no problem pushing Ezra down by the shoulders and holding him in place.

"No," they said in a deep voice, firm but gentle. "Stay still."

Ezra scanned the room. The clean beige carpet, new looking brown sofa, and sea scape paintings certainly weren't his.

"Where am I?"

Ezra's heart raced, fuelled with fear and andrenaline, pounding against his ribcage in a mockery of a ceremonial drum.

"I didn't give you permission to speak," his captor said.

Ezra stayed silent. The humiliation of being treated like a lap dog wasn't enough to render him stupid.

His captor could have a gun or some other sort of weapon. Fighting back simply wasn't worth the risk.

Ezra needed answers before he could decide what to do. There wasn't any point in getting himself killed.

Music played softly in the backround, the melody much too pleasant for such an occasion. A woman sang softly from the spinning record, but was not loudly enough for Ezra to make out her words.

Turning his head slightly, Ezra got a look at his captor. He looked to be in his thirties, fair skinned with mousy brown hair, wearing wire framed glasses and a small smile.

He tucked a lock of hair behind his captive's ear, before leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

Ezra flinched and tried to pull away.

"Tsk tsk," his captor said. "That is no way to treat your master. I'm just being friendly."

Ezra opened his mouth to retort, but swallowed his complaint before it could escape his lips.

"You're being such a good pet," his captor continued, petting Ezra's curly hair. "Now, if you had something you wanted to ask me, you may. So long as you're respectful about it."

"Where am I?"

"Call me sir."

"No way in-" he broke off, remembering his position. "Yes, sir."

He tried his best to sound vaguely ticked off, but still compliant. Judging by the look on his supposed master's face, he succeeded in only the second part.

"You may ask that again."

"Where am I, sir?"

"My home. You are still in the United States, but I took you over state lines."

None of this was helpful in the slightest, but Ezra figured it was the best he was going to get.

He lived near enough to the borders of Idaho, Oregon, and even Montana that he could have easily been taken to any of them.

"Why am I here, sir?"

"Because I thought you would make a good pet."

Ezra's stomach dropped.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It isn't anything horrid. I'm not going to hurt you, unless you harm me or attempt escape. You should be grateful, really. I'm a lot kinder than most of the masters you could have gotten stuck with."

The term human trafficking sprung to Ezra's mind. He had never thought to worry about such a thing happening to him. It always seemed so removed from his normal suburban life.

"Can you tell me what happened, sir?"

Sir. How he loathed that word. It was meant to refer to a person he respected, and his captor sure as hell didn't qualify.

But he needed information. And he needed a plan. Faked respect was his best bet, and he would use it to its fullest extent.

"Well, let me see..." His captor considered for a moment how best to explain. "I saw you at that shopping mall. Do you remember?"

Of course he remembered. Ezra hung out in that concrete, capitalistic place of congregation every week.

It had always seemed so...pleasant.

Graphic t-shirts, warm pretzels, loose change jangling in pockets, luke warm carbonated drinks, bad hair dye, and casual socialization.

Sure, it was only a way to cope with the dreaded outside world. Spend five bucks on a drink to pretend you aren't in credit card debt, buy a fun piece of clothing to make yourself feel better, avoid becoming an alcoholic by gorging on salty pretzels that only ever seemed to make you hungrier.

The mall was routine. It seemed safe.

What he didn't remember was being kidnapped.

"I don't remember you," he said. "I mean sir," he hastily added. "The last thing I remember was feeling ill from a bit of food poisoning in the food court and walking out to the parking lot."

"It wasn't food poisoning. I drugged you. It was so easy too. You kept leaving your drink unattended. I noticed that habit in you for weeks."

This remark set off a phantom cascade of crushed ice falling under Ezra's shirt collar and sliding down his back.

"You always seemed like such a sweet thing. Tipping cashiers and complimenting every other person. Such a sunny disposition too. I am very surprised that I was the first person to sink my teeth into you, so to speak."

Was that it then? He had seemed "sweet," so some stranger decided to drug and kidnap him? Had every good deed only brought him closer to this insane fate?

No. This was not going to be his fate. He was going to cooperate, and then, when his captor finally trusted him enough to let his gaurd down, he would make his escape.

There was no point in rushing, not if his captor wasn't going to hurt him. He just had to bide his time.

"And you're so pretty too," his captor continued. "I know a few men who would wear your face as a mask sooner than saying hello. No, no, you're much better off with me. I'll take care of that pretty face of yours."

He trailed his fingers down his captive's cheek.

"I've admired your smile from afar for much too long. Waiting for my golden opportunity was simply torturous."

Ezra wasn't smiling.

"I was so paranoid that someone else would find you. I considered taking you from your bed, of course. But I didn't want to leave any evidence. So many people go to the mall, a few of my stray hairs won't mean anything to an investigation. And I didn't take you until you were already in the parking lot. No security footage. I checked."

Hot tears pricked the corners of Ezra's eyes. Despite all his pragmatic reasoning, he still found himself overwhelmed by the enormity of his situation.

He didn't know where he was. There wasn't any evidence of kidnapping. He had ghosted his friends all too often, mostly out of depression. They wouldn't be concerned by him not responding to their messages.

In short, he was completely screwed over by a demented stalker and his own poor social skills.

"Oh, don't cry." His kidnapper pulled Ezra's head up, so that it was resting on his chest.

Despite Ezra's best efforts, hot tears continued to roll down his cheeks. He hated not being able to move his hands and wipe them away.

"Angel," his captor whispered. "I should have realized that this would be too much for you. Oh, I tried so very hard to be kind. To make waking up as easy for you as I could. These first few days are going to be rough. I know that. But you'll learn to be happy with me, just give it time."

Ezra sobbed and melted into his captor's warm embrace, allowing his lavender perfume to smother him.

Despite its obvious falseness, the comfort was pure bliss. He wanted to ignore his troubles for a few hours and cry himself asleep in his captor's arms.

His captor began undoing the knot holding Ezra's arms behind him, pull the strips of fabric off, and drop them on the living room floor.

To his relief, Ezra's sore muscles were finally allowed to move. He fought the urge to run, knowing that it would only cause him more suffering.

Instead, he hugged his captor, still an uncontrollable sobbing mess.

A familar, detached sense of pain overcame him. This all was a dream. It had to be.

But still he wept, unable to bring himself to do anything else.

His captor held him close.

"I love you," he whispered soothingly. "I want you to know that. You will be happy here. I'll keep you clothed, clean, and fed. You won't have to worry about anything. No twenty-four hour news cycle. No war, famine, and disease. No abuse and neglect. I will treat you with all the kindness, affection, and care you have always deserved. And I'm only sorry that I didn't give you the chance to come willingly. I was so afraid of scaring you off."

That sounded like hell and heaven all rolled into one. It reminded Ezra of the best promises weaved by fascism, while it went about ignoring its bloody history.

His captor didn't love him. He couldn't delude himself on that point. All his captor had was obsession and mental health problems. What he needed was serious help, not a human pet.

But it was tempting to stay like this forever. Warm and comfortable. Letting his captor keep his promises. Not having debt and the constant risk of homelessness. Living somewhere his toxic friendships and familial connections could never bother him again.

Ezra felt truly pathetic. Had his depression and anxiety really gotten bad enough that he was considering becoming a pet to his kidnapper? And for what, cuddling and empty promises?

He took control of his breathing and was, at long last, able to wipe the tears from his face with his long sleeve.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"Please what?" his captor asked, his voice drenched with sympathy.

"Please let me go...sir. I know that you mean well. But I can't stay here. I have to leave."

Another sob choked him, and sent him collapsing into his captor's open arms. The act betrayed a nonexistant lie.

"Oh, darling. I'm afraid not." He squeezed his new pet in another suffocating embrace. "I can't lose you. Not after everything I've been through to get this far. You're far too perfect to be damaged and discarded by the outside world. I'm not doing this out of cruelty. I'm doing this because I love you. Just give me time. That's all I want."

"Well, I want to go home."

Ezra's body didn't match his words, clinging desperately to his captor, seeking any semblance of comfort from this torment.

God, maybe he would make a good pet, needy and compliant. Sitting on his master's lap, cradled in his arms.

No. He wasn't going to give up. It would be absolute insanity. He had to stay strong internally, even if he showed his captor every sign of weakness.

"I'll give you everything you need," his captor promised. "Our own little Eden."

Ezra's mind felt like it was stuffed with barbed wire, every wicked point concealed by a cotton ball.

His friends would report him missing eventually, even if it took them a few months to realize he wasn't intentionally ghosting them.

Patience, he simply needed patience.

@elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @devourerofcheesecake

If you want to be added to or removed from the taglist, ask me.

#Whump #Whumpee #Whumper #Creative writing #Pet whump #Pet whumpee #Intimate whumper #Creepy whumper #Kidnapping whump #Captivity whump #Stalking whump #Modern whump #Pathetic whumpee #Compliant whumpee #Fearful whumpee #Manipulative whumper

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weixuldo · 4 months

Text

Enigma// ch 28

anakin x reader

A/N: Hiii- just so u know this chapter is pretttty long and very plot heavy- just wanna remind yall im not a medical professional lol so sorry any misconstruing of info (i tried my best)!! i hope u all enjoy! i’ll explain more abt the chapter in the notes at the end :)

it’s a month before the baby is due and Anakin gets some news that may alter your future

warnings: cursing, pregnancy, liver failure, hospitals, whump, medical procedures, birth

____________________________

September 26th

It had only been a few weeks since you and Anakin were wed and his health had already deteriorated significantly.

He was now at the point where he was only able to leave the house to go to his weekly check-ups at the hospital.

When he was at home, he tried to be more active and help you out, but you insisted that he take it easy… you wanted him to meet the baby and it seemed that he didn’t have much longer so you didn’t want him to rush the process.

His pain levels changed with every hour, though some days were worse than others. After his episode on your wedding night he had to start setting alarms to remind him to take his pills so that the medicine would be working at the optimal rate it could.

He headed your requests for him to “take it easy” but he still did so much for you (much to your chagrin).

At dinner he would get up from his chair to help you ease into yours, he would run bath’s for you and sneakily clean up the kitchen while you bathed, and he would stay up with you when you couldn’t rest.

You really couldn’t ask for a better husband.

As for you, the baby was really taking a toll on your tired body- Taking care of yourself, your baby, and your husband was a difficult feat.

Somedays you wanted nothing more than to roll over and not wake up, but you were never in those moods for long.

Today was no different- You woke up with sharp pains in your lower back but brushed them off, you had been having them all week. Rolling your eyes, you got out of bed.

Anakin was sitting stiffly on the sofa with one of his mechanical arms wrapped around his side. He was in pain.

“Ani?” you said, barely above a whisper.

He turned his focused gaze towards you and his furrowed brows softened, “Hey Angel- how’d you sleep?” he asked in a strained voice.

You didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched when he tried to shift into a better position.

“Not too well, but I’ll be ok. How about you? Are you alright?” you asked, walking towards him.

He quickly nodded before you came closer, “Yea-’m ok, I just need to take my pills- I’ll get them in a minute” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’ll go get them for you, Ani,” you said, turning towards the kitchen.

Before you knew it, his cool metallic grasp held your arm and made you shiver.

“No!” he exclaimed before clenching his eyes shut and sucking in a sharp breath.

“No, I’m ok- you need to rest baby” he said, attempting to guide you to the couch as he hoisted himself up.

You were about to protest when you felt an uncomfortable sensation in your lower abdomen,

“Shit!” you exclaimed, gripping the armrest on the couch.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing from the kitchen, pills still in his clenched hand.

“Nothing- just a harsh kick” you said, attempting to suppress your grimace.

Anakin didn’t leave.

“I’m ok Ani, really” you said before he nodded and went back to finish taking his meds.

The baby had been moving a lot lately, but your doctor said it was normal for babies to be more active if the mother was under stress (which you definitely were).

____________________________

“I’ll see you in a few” Anakin waved as he headed out the door with his jacket to meet Ben at his car.

Ben and Ahsoka had been taking turns driving Anakin to his weekly appointments since he couldn’t drive himself and it wasn’t safe for you to drive either. They had been a huge help and you would never stop thanking them.

“Bye Ani” you said before kissing him one last time.

The ride to the hospital was mostly silent between Ben and Anakin, save for the radio that played classic 2000’s hits.

“How have you been feeling?” Ben asked as he pulled into the hospital’s parking lot.

“Peachy…” Anakin lamented blankly.

“I’m being serious Anakin,” Ben sighed.

Anakin took a deep breath, “honestly I feel worse by the day but I don’t want to tell her- she already has enough on her plate…”

Ben’s brows furrowed and he stroked his beard.

“Ben, I don’t know if i’m gonna make it to the birth-”

“Don’t think like that Anakin” Ben cut into his friend’s thoughts abruptly.

“You’ve got to have hope”.

Anakin nodded silently before allowing his friend to help him out of the car and into his wheelchair.

Anakin could still walk, but it was better for him to conserve the little energy he had.

Of course, he absolutely hated using his chair- but it was the best option.

The clinic was abnormally warm today and Anakin was getting uncomfortable in his sweatshirt. Ben sat in the chair next to the exam table Anakin was laid up on; head rested against the wall and arms crossed.

“You didn’t have to stay Ben, I’m sure the news is going to be the same as always” Anakin sighed, staring at the ceiling.

Anakin’s usual doctor had just taken a few samples to run labs on; a routine procedure for him- all there was to do was wait around for the results.

“I didn’t want to just leave you in here, It’s perfectly fine Anakin” Ben smiled.

Before Anakin could answer the doctor knocked on the door once more; in his hand a thick pamphlet along with his usual clipboard.

“Mr. Skywalker…We have some unfortunate news…”

Anakin felt his stomach drop- he didn’t expect there to be good news, but he didn’t expect anything other than the ordinary either.

“Yes?” he asked with a waiver in his voice.

“I’m afraid you have developed acute liver failure… This is when a patient develops sudden and severe liver failure without a history of long-term liver disease. In these cases, an urgent liver transplant may be their only life-saving treatment. And from what your labs are showing- a transplant may be your only saving grace, sir”.

Anakin’s eyes closed, he needed a moment to process this.

“Alright, how long do I have?”

The doctor sighed, “There really is no telling sir- but not long…not long at all. Most likely in the next two weeks”.

Ben sat up in his chair, “So what are we going to do for him? There are at least seventy slots before him on the donor list!”

The doctor turned his attention to the bearded man; “We are admitting him to our hepatology and gastrology ward to monitor his condition- we will keep him here as long as we can and try to find a donor that matches his needs.”

“So what I'm hearing is you’re going to stick him in a room and hope he doesn’t die before you can find a plausible liver?” Ben argued but Anakin stopped him.

“It’s fine, Ben,” he said before directing his attention to the doctor, “I don’t care if I’m miserable, please just try to keep me alive long enough to see my wife deliver our baby.”

“Of course”.

______________________

You were lying on the couch scrolling mindlessly through your phone when Ben’s number flashed across your screen.

Odd, he usually wasn’t the one to call.

“Hello?”

Hey- umm, we have some bad news.

“Oh…Oh God-” you sat up immediately.

Anakin’s condition has turned into acute liver failure and he is in the final stages… He was admitted this afternoon and probably won't-

You heard Ben sniffle on the other line as your own tears dared to fall.

-won’t be going home again

You felt your world spinning and you had to brace yourself on the couch arm, “Can I see him?- I want to see him,” you said firmly, rising to your feet.

“No, Visiting hours are over for the day” you could hear the frown in Ben’s voice.

They closed around the time he was finally admitted, so I didn’t even get to see him- but I have his stuff, want me to drop it off?

“U-umm does he need it?” you asked, hoping to delay the blow of reality.

“C-could you just hold onto it for now?”

Of course

“Thank you” you said before hanging up quickly.

You tossed your phone on the other side of the couch and covered your mouth with your hands. This was real- not just hypothetical dates and times… He was really at the end.

As much as you didn’t want to, you just couldn’t hold back your agonizing cries.

Anakin would really be gone soon.

____________

You had a terrible night sleep and felt like absolute shit- not only were you worried about Anakin, you couldn’t get a grasp on the pain you began to feel through your body.

Thankfully Ahsoka was supposed to come over in a while for lunch and to take you to see Anakin at the hospital.

About an hour after you had gotten yourself together for the day, you heard a knock on the door and Ahsoka came in with two to-go boxes.

“Hello!” she said in a sing-songy voice, “How are my two favorite people doing?”.

You weakly laughed, “not two just yet! But it sure does feel like it's gonna be soon” you exhaled as you rose to your feet. Ahsoka always knew how to lighten a mood.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked, putting the food on the counter.

“I’m not sure, I’ve been feeling off this week- It’s probably just normal pains though” you said, joining her at the table.

“How are you feeling about…” she began.

You bit your lip and attempted to keep your smile.

“I’m… not great, but I’m just hoping for a miracle. I-I just need Anakin to be ok”

Ahsoka nodded and rubbed your upper arms.

“I understand- I.. Just know that if you need anything or help when the baby comes- please never hesitate to ask”.

You hated that she spoke as if his fate were already sealed, but it mostly was. He had been living with a failing liver longer than he would have admitted to (especially evident in the fact that he never asked for the extra labs on his liver because of his past of alcohol abuse) since he just was trying to ignore the facts until they just went away (they never did).

“Thank you Ahsoka, It really means a lot” you said, before you felt another sharp pain in your lower back.

“Woah, are you sure you’re alright?”

You nodded with gritted teeth, “Yea, It’s fine- Probably just slept wrong”

“You sure? I can take you to the clinic if you’re worried” she offered.

“No no, I think I’m fine- let's eat!”

The boxes had just been opened when you felt another jolt of pain shoot up your spine. You shut your eyes and clenched your jaw.

Ahsoka sprung to your side and placed a gentle hand on your back, “Hey! Are you sure your-”

She was cut off by your labored breathing; your chest heaved as you slid your chair back.

“I-I think I just need some… fresh.. A-air” you said, getting to your feet.

She shook her head, “I think you should stay seated” she coached.

Your world was spinning as pains washed over your body; you focused on your breathing and eventually got yourself to a decently normal cadence.

You got up to head to the bathroom to splash some cool water on your face when you had to grip onto the sofa for support. You let out a painful cry and your eyes widened when you felt something wet running down your leg.

Your water broke.

“A-Ahsok-” you stuttered; you had barely processed what just happened when she was already by your side.

“Ok- Ok, umm- Just breathe- I’m gonna get you to the hospital! It’s gonna be ok” she said, trying her best to stay calm.

You nodded and closed your eyes to focus on controlling your breathing- This was really happening.

__________________

Ben sat in the big blue hospital-grade chair beside the exam table; he was reading a history book Satine had gotten for him on wars of the past.

Anakin was lying wide awake on the uncomfortable exam table; currently he was occupied with the small cracks in the ceiling- at least he was keeping his mind busy.

Soon enough another physician came in to observe him; Anakin was just about over random people coming in and out of his room like a revolving fucking door! Why did so many doctors need to come in to tell him the same verdict? Wasn’t hearing that he was “gonna to die soon” once enough?!

They began talking him through what the last few days may look like and if Anakin needed someone to talk through his emotions with (He thought that was stupid- why have someone else tell him how to read his own fucking emotions?) .

The doctor left to grab something (again) and Anakin turned to Ben.

“Do you think Snipps is bringing y/n over soon?” he asked tiredly.

Ben looked up and shrugged, “I assume so, they probably just got a late start”.

The doctor came back in and began to drone on about some other “experimental treatments” when Ben’s phone started to ring. He excused himself and went into the hallway- it was Ahsoka.

“Hello?”

Hey Ben! So um… we’re not gonna make it to visit Anakin today- y/n’s water just broke and we’re on the way to the hospital now.

“Maker! She isn’t due for another four weeks!” Ben exclaimed.

I know- Skyguy wasn’t picking up. Just let him know what's going on. I’m pretty sure she wont be up there to see him anytime soon though.

“Alright, I’ll let him know, be safe- And good luck y/n” Ben said before hanging up and swiftly making his way back to Anakin’s room.

Ben quietly knocked but urgently entered the room; the doctor and Anakin’s focus both shifted to him.

“Ben, You alright?” Anakin asked- he could read the worry all over his friend’s face.

“Anakin… y/n has just gone into labor”

Anakin’s eyes widened and he sat up abruptly before grabbing his side in pain.

“Woah, take it easy Mr. Skywalker” the doctor informed, placing his steady hands on his patient’s shoulders.

“I need to see her!” Anakin exclaimed, trying to push himself up.

“No, you don’t need to overexert yourself, you’ll just worsen your condition”

“Doc, she’s a month early- I need to be there for my wife” Anakin protested, pushing himself off of the examination table.

Thankfully he was already wearing his prosthetics today; even though it wasn’t recommended he was allowed to wear them some days (much to his physician’s displeasure).

The doctor ignored his protests and kept him sat.

“Sir I cannot let you leave, you are my patient and I need to look after your wellbeing and exhausting yourself by going all the way to the maternity ward is not in the interest of your physical wellbeing!”

Anakin’s gaze hardened and he looked over the physician’s shoulder to Ben, “Is she alright Ben? Maker-Please tell me she’s alright” he begged.

Ben gave a sympathetic look before sighing, “I’m not sure, Ahsoka didn’t give many details”.

Anakin threw his head back onto the plush table and let out a defeated sigh.

“I am very sorry Mr. Skywalker, but I need to continue your exami-”

Anakin shot up again, this time with all of his strength. His eyes conveyed desperation, sadness, anger, and worry as he wrapped a mechanical hand around the doctor’s wrist.

“We both know my condition is a death sentence- unless I miraculously get a donor in the next week, I’m not gonna see the end of the month. So hear me when I tell you I will not sit idly by when my wife is scared and alone giving birth for the first time. I will not leave her feeling like i didn’t care” Anakin physically shook with emotion.

Ben came to his side and tried to talk him down; even if he disagreed with the doctor’s order, he was the more level headed between himself and his friend.

“She is my wife and I will be by her side to see our baby born- even if it’s the last thing I do, at least I was there with her and left her knowing I'd come when she needed me.”

The doctor’s own eyes began to water once he was released from Anakin’s hold, but even so he shook his head, “I-i’m truly sorry sir, B-but I do not-”

“I could drop dead any fucking day! Can you not just let a dying man be there for his wife?! For Goddsake, my wife is delivering four weeks early?! She’s probably terrified down there!” he practically screamed.

The doctor looked to Ben for guidance but only found the bearded man casting a disapproving gaze his way.

“He will find a way to leave regardless of what you prescribe” Ben warned.

Finally, after a moment of contemplation, the doctor nodded and shortly left the room, “I hope you realize, this is not a wise decision- I will have to refer you to a different physician”.

Anakin’s eye twitched at the man’s words, it was basically a “fuck you” to him. But he didn’t care, what he cared about was getting to you.

____________________________

Ahsoka drove like a madwoman to get you here quickly; once you arrived you were taken from the emergency room to the maternity ward. Ahsoka wasn’t allowed to come into the room with you, so she was left pacing the waiting room nervously.

Another wave of searing pain washed through your body as you clenched your eyes shut. You bit back a scream and clawed at the hospital grade mattress beneath you.

Maker, you were never doing this shit again.

Your whole body trembled as you let out a strained cry. You weren’t due for another month- why was this happening now? Was the baby going to be alright?

After another cry you managed to get one of your many questions out.

“W-Where’s Ana-anakin?” you huffed out to a nurse (who definitely had no idea who you were talking about).

“What’s that darling?” she asked, trying to be as comforting as she could.

“My h-husband, Wh-where is he” you asked desperately- your mind was in a whirr and you were not thinking straight.

“Does he h-have his legs on? Or d-does he need my help-”

“I’m sorry mam, I don't understand?” she offered.

You were about to speak again when another sharp pain nipped at your lower back; you groaned and pushed your head back into the pillows behind you.

What if Anakin wasn't coming, what if something happened?

You trembled in pain and fear- this was all new to you and you were alone…

After what felt like ages another midwife came in to assist- she seemed more experienced than the first one; once she saw your scared state she immediately went to comfort you.

“ts all gonna be alright, Hon. We’re gonna fix you up with some pain meds and make you as comfortable as we can- The baby ‘s gonna be alright ‘n your husband’s comin’ soon- just try to breathe'' she spoke with a warm southern accent that almost made it seem like what she was saying was true.

You nodded and took one of the ice chips she offered you. The cold chip felt nice as it melted in your mouth; they provided some much needed cooling from your uncomfortably warm body.

Your eyes were soon shut tightly from pain, “I-I don’t th-think I can do t-this” you cried as you braced for another rush of pain.

In the moment the sensation reached its peak, the door burst open making you gasp; you couldn’t help the overwhelming sobs once you realized who it was.

Anakin- he was standing tall and covered in the required scrubs; they fit him terribly and one of the other midwives had to hold them up as he stumbled towards you.

“Angel!” he called once he was by your side.

“Ani! You came?!” you exclaimed, desperately reaching for him.

“Of course I came, Sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss it for the world” (and that was really true).

“A-are you going t-to be ok? What about your l-liver?” you fretted over your husband’s condition.

“I’ve got it taken care of, just focus on breathing for me, ok?” The calmness of his voice helped your worries subside.

Your eyes opened just enough to look over his worried features before you screwed them shut once more. You pushed your head into the pillow as your back arched in pain.

“A-Ani” you cried as you grabbed onto one of his mechanical hands; good thing he couldn’t actually feel your grip because it definitely would have pained him.

“Shhh- it's all going to be ok princess. you’ve got it” he said sweetly as he ran his other hand over your hair.

“I-I’m sorry Ani” you sobbed.

“No, no! What do you have to apologize for? Nothing baby- nothing” he said, pressing kisses to your temple.

“The baby wasn’t due for f-four more weeks- I put them in d-danger”.

“What? No, they just wanted to come see us early- that's all. You’ve done nothing wrong” he tried to smile.

He was a good actor, but you knew he was hurting just as much as you were.

With what little strength you had left, you pulled him closer; “I-I’m scared…What if the baby doesn't make it Ani?”.

His brows upturned sadly, “Oh no, baby- don’t think about that now, you’re doing great and so is the baby”.

Somehow his words calmed you (even though he wasn’t the least bit certified to be telling you these things).

You nodded and asked him to hold you closer and he did the best he could.

You fell in and out of consciousness but were still able to follow the midwife's instructions. The whole time Anakin stayed by your side comforting you (and hiding his own pain from you).

“She's losing a lot of blood” a midwife relayed to the doctor, who then barked some orders to another nurse.

“Did you hook her up to the IV?” one of them asked.

“What?! What’s happening?” Anakin demanded, walking closer to the nurse at your feet.

“We’ll have to do an emergency C-section” the midwife said to the doctor, ignoring Anakin’s worried questions.

“Is she going to be alrig-” Anakin started.

“Sir, Please back away- we’re handling it.”

He was about to respond when you tugged weakly on his arm begging for him to come back. He bit his lower lip and quickly made his way back to you. Your eyes were unfocused and glassy.

“A-ani, I can’t- I c-can't-” you croaked out as your body began to wear down.

“It’s going to be ok Angel. It’s going to be alright, just stay awake for me” he repeated as he brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face.

After a particularly painful contraction you fell limp and Anakin’s heart skipped a beat.

“Y/n!? Baby, please wake up for me- please” he begged as he caressed your flushed face.

He felt his tears falling- he never thought he would be the one to lose you.

After a moment your eyes hazily opened and closed; Anakin’s pulse was racing as he attempted to gain your attention.

“That’s it Sweetheart! Just try to stay awake for me please” he cried as your eyes finally landed on him (thought they were still unfocused).

“A-Ani-”

A midwife began to unlock the wheels of the hospital bed; an odd feeling washed over Anakin and he stood still for a moment gripping onto the bed rail for support.

“Sir, Please move your hand off of the bed” the nurse sternly asked.

No response.

“We need to take her into surgery right now. Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to-”

Anakin collapsed onto the floor with a thud- the nurses initially figured he passed out from the stress of watching his wife give birth, but once he started clawing at his side in agony they realized it was something else.

You heard his painful howls and snapped back into reality (just for a moment).

“Anakin!” you exclaimed as you watched him struggle on the floor beside you.

“Sir- Sir what’s wrong?” one attempted to ask.

“He’s in the last stages of liver failure- He needs a doctor!” you cried.

All you wanted was to go to him, but your own pain was immobilizing. The next moments were a blur; first they wheeled you down to the operation room- you cried on the way, begging for them to let you stay with Anakin (you were not in the right head space to be making any decisions).

Anakin was left on the floor as they took you out of the room- was he ever going to see you again? He felt himself slipping away…

He felt the darkness clouding his vision.

He felt…

***

a/n: it’s getting hella juicy… i hope this chapter wasn’t too everywhere haha… i’m not gonna lie idk that much abt liver failure but i do know abt acute liver failure. the next chapter is gonna have some medical stuff too and some of it is pretty rare, ngl (mostly pertaining to the birth) just cause im a sucker for drama- so sorry if it’s not the most realistic (everything i’ll write in the next chapter is possible tho/ just in very specific circumstances hahah)

Also i’m not the best with timelines and not entirely sure how long some of these medical things last… oops- that all being said!!! thank you all for the support and interest in my story :)

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythe-skywalker

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